Lingering Shadows
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: All he wanted was to see her face and finally feel whole again. But while he had been gone, something had happened. Something that had destroyed the woman he loved. All that was left were shadows clinging to her shell. Follows 2.10. Epilogue up.
1. Chapter 1

_Well, I currently hate the writers for leaving the last episode the way they did. Evil little buggers… Anyway, this just jumped into my head after watching ep. 4X10 and it's been nagging me ever since. The way it end left me all moppy and sad, so I felt the overwhelming need to write something angsty. And instead of directing that into Fracture Lines, here I am. I very much hope you enjoy and don't feel the urge to throw large heavy objects at my head. I must admit that this came out a bit shakier than intended, but I really hope you will give it a chance! :) The rabid thought bunnies have latched on and there is no way in hell they'll be letting go anytime soon…_

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

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><p>It had been eighty seven days since he had been Sam Swarek. Eighty seven days since he had become another drug dealing low life as part of a UC operation. Eighty seven goddamn days since he had felt whole; felt alive. Eighty seven days since the last time he had seen her.<p>

Those three months had been the longest of his life, stretching longer then he would've thought possible. The operation, the one that had supposed the have been for a few measly weeks, had become a month. Then two. Finally, after three months of grueling undercover, the target had been neutralized and he could finally return home. And see her.

At first, he had thrown himself into the job, hoping it would distract him from his thoughts of her. But to no use; she would always worm her way back in at night, when he tried to fall asleep. There was nothing he could do to remove her face from his mind, her laugh, her smile, _her. _Nothing.

If he had been given the chance, he would've dropped the operation right after month two. No one would hear a word of it. They continued to push him deep into the organization, not allowing him to get a moment of peace in their search for the right amount of evidence to bring the leaders done. In turn, he had built a careful shell around himself, becoming Ray Trafford as best as he could.

He had turned himself into the scum bag and worked his way into the inner circle. He put up the act of being a drunken womanizer for the most part, even though every woman he looked at seemed to repulse him. None of them even came close to her. But his act had been bought; he had slowly gained the trust of the leaders and become their personal runner for the most part, doling out much of their business.

And yet, with every breath he took, he missed her straight done to the core of his being. He missed her so much that it physically hurt at times. What was worse was that he had been the one to walk away. He had known that she hadn't felt the same way about him, had her five year plan and all that, so he had forced himself away so as to not face any more pain. It had ripped his heart to shreds, but had been what he believed the best action. For both of them. Eventually, he had come to accept this fact even while it crippled something deep inside.

Now he could go back.

Walking into the precinct, it felt like fifty pounds were removed from his shoulders and he could _breathe_ right. It was one of the best things in the world. He navigated his way through the bullpen and towards the parade, knowing that's where Best had gathered everyone. He was a tad late, but it seemed they were just rapping up Parade now.

Best spotted him through the windows and a small smile graced his face, but he didn't stop in his orders. Pausing in the doorway, Sam waited at the back, his body pumping with adrenalin and causing him to shift from foot to foot anxiously. Try as he might, he couldn't see her as his sight was partially blocked by some other officer's back.

"And I am pleased to welcome back Officer Sam Swarek!" Best announce, gesturing for him to enter. He walked in slowly amongst the loud cheers and catcalls that emanated from the ranks of uniforms. He felt Oliver clap him on the back and applause rained in his ears, but he could only look for her.

It was only when he stood at the front of the room, shaking hands with the detectives, was he able to spot her. She was pressed into the far corner, away from all of the rookies, silent and unmoving. Brown eyes met his only briefly, yet felt like they were held for hours, before she turned and exited the room.

But he had seen the emptiness in her eyes and the shadows on her face. All he could do was wonder what had happened during those three long and awful months. Unfortunately, he couldn't follow her as he wished because Best dismissed everyone and they all exited at the same time, blocking anyway to go after her.

As soon as a doorway was clear, he made his way towards it, intent on finding her and saying things that had been burning in his chest for so long now. What he didn't see was Traci stepping out from the side. She stopped in front of him, causing him to jerk to a halt and glare at her.

"Don't. Whatever you do, don't go after her. She just put herself back together and you being here will simply undo any healing that's been happening. So, just don't." Traci's voice was soft and full of emotion, but before he could ask what she was talking about; she turned and walked away, leaving him alone in confusion and worry.

What had happened to Andy McNally that would leave her friends afraid for him to even see her? And why hadn't anyone told him?


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for your overwhelming support on the beginning! To be honest, I was completely shocked at how many of you clicked on this and faved/alerted/reviewed. I didn't think it would go over that well. So, thanks again. I really means a bunch!_

_Also, prayers go out to everyone near the hurricane. My thoughts are with you and stay safe._

_Warning: (I figure I should put this up now.) Mentions of torture/abuse in future chapters._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

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><p>Leaning heavily against his locker, Sam couldn't stop staring at the phone clenched in his hands. Boyd had stopped by to hand him back all of his old things and gave him another congratulatory grin before he left for a new op. The package had consisted of his cell phone, some mail, his keys and his wallet. The first thing he had done was store the mail, wallet and keys in his locker for later when he got home and he had been about to put his phone away too, but had noticed one missed voicemail. Frowning to himself, he had flipped it open and pressed play.<p>

As he listened to her voice resonate through the speaker, he felt his heart warm, before freezing. It was the first time he had heard her in months, the sound of her bringing him back to life. The happiness and hopefulness sparking something within him. But then he had tuned in to _what_ she was saying. What she asking. When it was finished, he frantically checked the time stamp and date, only to feel something break inside of him. She had left this message barely an hour after he had given up his life and gone under. It tore him apart knowing how close she had been and that he had let it slip away by wanting nothing more than to escape from his life a few weeks earlier than intended.

Resisting the urge to hurl the phone at the opposite wall, he shoved it to the back of his locker and hurriedly changed into his uniform. Best wanted him back on duty as soon as possible, but first he had to find her. There weren't that many places in the precinct to hide, as he had noted that she was on desk duty for the day. He had to explain things to her. No matter what Nash had said, he needed to do this.

The first thing he did was check the desks for her, but wasn't that shocked that she wasn't there. McNally couldn't follow orders to save her skin. He did note the angry glare that Diaz was giving him, and strode over to the younger man. Chris did have the smarts to look down, returning to the paperwork he was filling out, but the dark look didn't fade from his eyes.

"Diaz, where's McNally?" Sam asked, casually leaning against the desk.

"Does it matter? You aren't her partner anymore. Sir." Diaz glanced up at him, disgust twitching across his lips, before he went back to what he was doing. The tone that he had used stunned Sam more than anything else, knowing how much Chris respected command and order. And Sam couldn't help but noticed that the _sir _sounded more like an insult than anything else.

"What are you talking about? I just want to speak to her." Sam replied, a sick feeling starting to pump through his veins.

"Respectfully, I don't think that would be a good idea. Now, if you excuse me, I have work to do." Diaz promptly went back to filling a report and leaving Sam in a stunned silence. The warning Nash had given him had been confusing and a bit worrying, but Chris' actions toward him added a new layer of fear. He would never have thought that Diaz had it in him to show that much scorn for a senior officer and the fact that he had told Sam more than any words had.

Something terrible had happened during his undercover work. That much he was sure of. Something that even her friends seemed to believe he had a part in, even when he had no idea what was going on. Something that had people banding around her, making sure that he stayed away. And he needed to find out what. Because, more than anything, he needed to talk to her, to tell her the things that had been clawing within him for so long it began to physically hurt.

So he went to the one person he was sure he could get answers from. He found Oliver down in booking, hauling a very drunk creep in along with Peck. He received a frigid look from Gail as she brushed by him without a word, and Oliver tried to do the same before Sam stopped him.

"Where are you going Oliver?" Sam asked quietly, deceptively.

"To work. Where I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be Sam." Oliver snapped back, though not as harsh as would be expected.

"Touché. What happened when I was gone?" Sam sighed.

"A lot of things happened Sammy. Peck and Epstien got together, Zoe is contemplating renovating the house and Jerry is considering getting hitched with Nash." Oliver shouldered his way past Sam, heading toward the bullpen. Sam followed, as determined as a bulldog.

"You know what I'm talking about. What happened with McNally? And don't say nothing, because I know her and you, and I know that something is up." Sam hissed, adrenalin starting to spike within him as he continued to be evaded.

Oliver stopped in his tracks, halfway through the bullpen and turned to face him. His normally bright green eyes seemed to dull, shooting a feeling of panic straight into Sam's soul. "Sammy, there are just something's you should let lie. This is one of them. Leave her be because there is nothing you can do for her. There's nothing anyone can do for her."

Tamping down at the sudden onslaught of emotions, Sam grabbed Oliver's arm when he friend turned to walk away. "Come on. You know I can't do that. I have to talk to her. Please, Oliver." He let a note of desperation seep into his voice, knowing that Shaw would hear it. He was regarded by those cool green eyes for a long moment before Oliver nodded and shook himself.

"Fine. Just, whatever you do, do not touch her. I'm serious. It's up to her to tell you, no one else. So don't try and get it out of anyone." Oliver paused and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "Try up on the roof. More often than not, she's up there."

"Thank you." Sam breathed and rushed away.

Watching his friends retreating back, Oliver murmured to himself sadly. "I'm so sorry Sam." But his words were lost in the general clatter of the precinct.


	3. Chapter 3

_-Eye twitches spastically- I have been up waaaay to long... _

_Enjoy! And major thanks to all of the support; you people are amazing. Oh, and Andy's reaction in this chapter will all be explained in the next. I must mention that there is one reviewer who may be creepily psychic. Like, scarily... Anyway, hugs go out to all reviewers! –hugglez-_

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

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><p>Sam wound his way through the precinct towards the roof, noting offhandedly the number of strange or sidewise glances he received. He ignored them, but could feel some foreign feeling build inside him as he made his way onward. Once he found the door leading outside, he paused and took a breath to steady himself. Then he let his body shudder for a moment and pushed his way out and into the bright midday sun.<p>

At first, it was impossible to see beyond the bright light, but as soon as his eyes adjusted, he spotted her. She stood close to the edge, staring out over the city. Her back was to him and yet her profile suggested deep sadness and Sam felt the rising urge to reach out and protect her. From what, he was not sure; he just had the instinct to do so.

His feet crunched loudly on the loose stone as he made his way toward her, only to stop when he saw her body tense slowly. She half turned and eyed him cautiously, her expression devoid of emotion.

"I, uh, got your message." Sam started, running a nervous hand through his hair.

She snorted suddenly, a small sneer appearing on her face. "And you're here to say things, things to make it _all better._ To damn bad. You made your statement." Anger undulated through her voice and struck Sam straight in the heart.

"No! I never got the voicemail until this morning! Boyd pulled me in early for the operation that night and took my phone. If I had heard it then, there's no way I would've left. Please, believe that." He pleaded, taking a small step forward only to freeze when she jumped away from him, panic flaring in her eyes.

"Yet, when I _begged _for you, when I needed you the most, you weren't there." A soft laugh tinged with hysteria escaped. "So, while you may try to redeem yourself for not coming, you can't. It's too late." Looking back out over the city, she lowered her head and began whispering to herself. "Too late, too late, too late. Always too late."

Confused and deeply terrified over what he was being told, Sam murmured, "I'm so sorry. Please, what happened?" As he spoke, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm, completely forgetting Oliver's warning. The next second, he found his legs being kicked out from beneath him and Andy crouched, back pressed against the ledge, and staring at him with glazed eyes.

Propping himself up slowly on his arms, he watched in muted horror as she sprang out of her crouch and bolted for the stairwell. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving him with a ringing in his ears as he stared at where she had just vanished. Feeling his arms give out, he flopped back onto the rough gravel and felt his body shake slightly.

Taking a deep breath, he eventually got back on his feet and dusted off his uniform. Still in shock over what had just happened, his steps were disjointed and uneven as he made his way toward the stairs. Over and over, the events played in his mind on a loop and he fought desperately to try and make sense of it. His training kicked in partially and the cop part of him noted what she had said about her needing him.

Thinking back to when he had been undercover, he remembered one night when Boyd had contacted him, right when Sam had unearthed more information on their target. During their meeting, Boyd had seemed on edge and a bit jumpy, but Sam had made nothing of it. He had simply believed that Boyd had suspicions that he might be tagged as a cop, just like any other meet between the two. The incident had faded to the back of his mind. But it jumped back full force the more he mulled over it.

As he mulled over it, every part of him analyzed the event and began to scream that Boyd had known something. It was obvious and Sam couldn't believe he hadn't picked up on it when it had been right in front of him. Why hadn't he simply asked? Because he had driven himself so deep in the job, that he had just put it away in order to survive. And now, it had bit him in the ass and opened his eyes.

A short snarl built in his throat at the idea of not being told something had happened. He forced it down as he headed toward the detectives offices, intent on discovering if Boyd's behaviour had had anything to do with what had happened while he had been under. But he bumped headlong into Jerry before he could complete his task.

Jerry, a bit surprised to see him, quickly masked it and grinned. "Sammy, back where you belong! Didja miss me?"

Struggling to regain his footing, Sam felt an unconscious smile spread across his face before he could stop it. "Damn right. I missed taking you around the block at poker night." Jerry snorted and clapped a hand on Sam's back.

"Right. Anyway, you look like you're on a mission. Where you headed?" He asked, stepping back to assess his friend. Sam's smile instantly slipped away as he recalled what he was doing. He looked down to hide the angry twitch of his lips as he responded.

"I'm looking for Boyd. I just wanted to ask him something about the op."

"Well, no luck there. He just left with his team for another operation. They don't know when he'll be back." Suddenly noting the angry air and tone to Sam's voice, Jerry regarded him in concern. "What do you want to ask him?"

"I think he knew that something had happened to Andy. And he didn't mention it." Sam looked up and Jerry saw heart wrenching pain in the dark depths.


	4. Chapter 4

_Surprise, surprise, Labour Day has given me time to update! This was planned to be posted in the middle of the week… Warm fuzzies go out to all reviewers. You guys are all amazing! Thank you so much for your kind words and support._

_The end to this chapter is completely different than what I had planned, so bear with me. The idea just jumped into my head when I was about half way through and isn't as well thought out as I would have hoped. So please, let me know if it came out as good as I thought it did… Andy will be back in the next chapter as well._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

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><p>Caution and confusion shuttered across Jerry's eyes as he realized what Sam was saying. At first, he couldn't believe that a fellow detective had done what he had, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. It explained everything. It explained why Sam hadn't come back when everyone had been dead certain he would. And when he hadn't, the outrage that had run rampant on the belief that he didn't care for his rookie as much as he had displayed had destroyed so much of the trust many had in Swarek.<p>

"Wait. So are you saying that Boyd never told you?" Jerry asked, going for one of the more neutral questions.

"Told me what?" And he suddenly found himself at the end of Sammy's anger. With a soft sigh of remorse, Jerry took his friends arm and gently pulled him into his office, ignoring Sam's angry questions for as long as he could. Closing the door firmly behind him, Jerry turned to face the dark officer.

"Take a seat." He offered.

"I'd prefer to stand." Sam retorted, crossing his arms across his chest, his eyes burning with a sick ferocity.

"You're going to want to sit." Jerry replied. When that prompted no movement, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before continuing. "About a week after you went under, there was an incident involving McNally. She was riding with Chris and they had stopped to pick up a witness in one of Callaghan's cases and while they were about to escort the witness from her house, they were jumped. Chris was knocked unconscious, the woman was shot point blank and the perp took McNally."

Jerry looked sadly at Sam, who's expression, which had been growing more and more cold and pained, froze. Holding up a hand when Sam opened his mouth, he continued softly. "I'm so sorry to be telling you all this. He held her for three days before we found her. It was… bad."

"What did he… do?" Sammy's voice was strangled and filled with anguish. Even while Jerry's heart went out for him, he refused to answer and continued.

"While she was at the hospital, she wouldn't speak to anyone other than Traci and she only asked for one thing. You. Boyd was ordered to inform you of what had happened and you could make your own choice to come back." He broke eye contact with his friend and began to study his desk. "And I'm guessing he didn't."

There was silence between them for a long time.

"No… He said nothing." Staring down at his now bone-white knuckles, Sam could feel a dark coiling fury snapping within him. It was a battle to restrain it, to keep it in check, but his control slipped enough to have him reach out and snatch a coffee mug resting on the desk. Before he could stop himself, it was shattering into a million pieces against the wall, just like his heart. Then he just stared at the glittering white fragments.

Jerry, at a loss for what to do, could only tuck his hands in his pockets and stand in silence. Eventually, Sam raised his tortured eyes to meet his friend's and murmured quietly. "I went up to the roof to talk to her." There was a short pause as he fought to control the trembling in his hands. "Jerry, she blames me."

"It's not your fault buddy. You have to know that. There was nothing you could've done different." As soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed.

"That's a lie! I should have known; I should have come back." Sam felt a tremor rock through his body as he stared in disbelief at Jerry.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Jerry lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "What I meant is, you can't blame yourself. I know for a fact that if you had any idea of what had gone done, you would have been back here so fast, you would have burned holes in the floor. This falls on Boyd for not passing on the word like he was _ordered _to." He watched sadly as the sick fury left Sam's eyes, leaving only emptiness and despair.

"But she still blames me. And there's nothing I can do." Sam mumbled softly. Brokenly.

Just as Jerry was about to respond, the door of his office was shoved open and Luke strode in. He instantly headed toward Sam, who was still too stunned to defend himself. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here after what you did. She's broken, you know that? And you just hid in your undercover, leaving her alone and scared." Luke snorted coldly.

"Callaghan, you are out of line." Jerry hissed warningly, watching Sam carefully.

The blond detective just laughed. "Am I? Everyone is thinking the same thing, but too afraid to speak up. Someone had to."

"You're wrong." At first, the voice was too quiet to understand.

"What?" Luke turned on Sam, his blue eyes sparking.

"You're wrong. I didn't know. You have no idea how much I wished I had known so I could have come back." Looking up into the eyes of the man that he had despised from a distance for so long, Sam continued. "It tears me to pieces knowing what I do now and if I could go back, I would change everything. And last I checked, you had no say in McNally's life."

Even as the words registered and rang of truth, Callaghan couldn't stop himself from leaving a parting shot. "That doesn't mean I will stand by and do nothing when she's hurting. Unlike you, I have morals." With a last glare, Luke turned and exited the room, leaving Sam with one last scorn filled glare.

Jerry was the first to break the silence. "If it makes you feel any better, everyone hates that man now." As he hoped, he was rewarded with a weak chuckle.


	5. Chapter 5

_The filler chapter has arrived! –cheers- So, this was not intended to be written. Not at all. This was supposed to be another chapter from Sam's perspective and continue on with the story line. Then, this just simply sprang to be… And has made its way here. So, this is from Andy's point of view and I hate it because I just could not seem to get her thoughts down right! But it's to give you wonderful readers some more background information. Personally, I don't like this as an Andy chapter was supposed to be further on into the story. Gah… Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

_Please, take time today to remember the bravery and courage that the men and woman involved in 9/11 went through ten years ago. They are forever in our hearts and will never be forgotten._

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><p>Still on edge from the nightmare she had had the night before, the sight of him, here, alive, had been more then she could take. It had been a low blow, slamming her right where she was still vulnerable and weak. The emotions that had built up over her time away, had coursed violently through her veins as she had stared across the Parade room at him.<p>

The sight of him had brought back an onslaught of half buried memories and caused nearly healed wounds to tingle. In those brief seconds when he had stood at the front of the room, looking back at her with sad eyes, she had remembered every single moment she had spent in the godforsaken basement and then in the hospital. And the rage that had been kindled, burned fresh.

So, she had gone up to the roof, the last remaining places where she could feel safe and think. Staring out over the bustling city always seemed to ease the overwhelming ache within her, the one that had been present ever since that night. For the first time that morning, she had been able to feel as though the world was actually steady beneath her feet and that everything hadn't been turned upside down.

Yet, swaying up in the wind, she had felt the last three months creep up on her. At first, it was just the memory of the loss and anger that had been prominent the week after Sam had left. Then came her time in _his _clutches. Those she had steadfastly tried to force away, but they would always creep back at night. After that, it was fragmented shots of the hospital, the early ones too foggy to remember. As time passed, they became clearer, making her relive every moment of physio and the torture of knowing that Sam had simply left her there. She could still recall sitting on the edge of her bed and waiting for the phone to ring, to say he was coming. Not once had it.

She had spent nearly two weeks at the hospital after the incident. Two weeks of avoiding every sidewise glance she got in the hallway, her father's always watchful eyes and her friends continuous presence. Then she had been given a mandatory six week's leave to continue healing, as she had taken some serious nerve damage in her arms. No matter how much she had fought, Best had simply ordered her home, refusing to take even a day off of the sentence. Well, to Tracy's as her friend refused to let her stay at Andy's apartment alone. While stuck in the house for hours on end with virtually nothing to do, the nightmares had snuck up on her even while she was awake. That, along with seeing the shrink two times a week kept what had happened firmly at the forefront, when all she had wanted to do was burry it. Then, finally, she had been allowed back on light duty. Technically, it was only grunt work, but at the time she couldn't have been more pleased.

Except, now a month later, she was still doing desk work. Three weeks later. There was nothing in her shifts that could ever keep the nightmares and memories at bay during paperwork, no solid thing to distract her. While she had noticed that whoever else was riding the desk with her for the day would do whatever they could to keep her occupied, it never worked. She would just sink back into that cold basement. But up on the roof, things were a little easier.

Then the door had opened and he had walked onto the roof. Straight into her safe place.

Fear and anger had frozen her, but she had turned enough to eye him. She could see the tension in his body language, and found it mirrored in her own. And then he spoke.

"I, uh, go your message."

A snort was pulled from her, lips twisting into a sneer. "And you're here to say things, things to make it all better. To damn bad. You made your statement." Rage had uncurled through her voice, snapping her farther back into the locked room.

"No! I never got the voicemail until this morning! Boyd pulled me in early for the operation that night and took my phone. If I had heard it then, there's no way I would've left. Please, believe that." And she had been able hear how much he wanted her to believe what he was saying. It had hit her forcefully, making her want to believe so badly in what he was saying. The bare truth wound its way through her insides and she could feel herself weakening. Then a flash of silver flickered through her mind and the rage and pain had instantly returned.

"Yet, when I begged for you, when I needed you the most, you weren't there." A soft laugh tinged with hysteria escaped. "So, while you may try to redeem yourself for not coming, you can't. It's too late." Looking back out over the city, she had lowered her head and began whispering to herself for comfort. "Too late, too late, too late. Always too late."

Then he had done it. Reached out and touched her arm. Right on the mark. And all she had been able do was react. When she found herself crouched, staring down at him, she simply got up and ran. Back into the station, down to the locker room before collapsing against the far shower. Placing her head in her hands, she struggled to hold back the shakes that threatened to overwhelm her. She hated this feeling of weakness, the one that arrived out of the blue or whenever a guy inadvertently brushed over the brand. Try as she might, she could never shake it.

So here she was, reduced to the useless, broken woman she was. With no way of getting out of this. He was actually here, the one man that she had thought would save her. It wasn't a figment of her imagination or hallucination, as she had had countless of those. It was real. And she knew without a doubt it would send her back through her personal hell.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you to all those who have continuously reviewed and commented; what you say really does keep me going. This is a slightly longer chapter, but the words just didn't stop coming to me when I was typing it up. More is soon to come, that's for sure and for now, I hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as I have writing it. :)_

_A minor warning for this chapter is that we now start into some sensitive stuff. Mentions of abuse and torture and minor swearing later on._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

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><p>Entering her apartment, Andy carefully locked her deadbolt, chain and standard lock behind her. As she had done every day since she had returned home after staying with Tracy, her eyes automatically swept across her living room and kitchen, cateloging everything to see if anything was amiss. For almost a week now, she had been living in her own space, not camped out on her friend's couch and it had been a small, but tangible, relief.<p>

Long shadows were creeping their way slowly across her furniture, casting shifting forms against her walls. They looked like long tapered hands reaching toward her, ready to snatch her back into hell. Shivering once, she glared at them, before flicking on the lights and tossing her bag into the corner. She could feel her resolve straining, the shattered bits ripping at the thin layer of grit that was holding her together for the moment. But she forced the rising panic and fear down and away, deep into the depths of her soul. She knew very well that it would resurface during the night as it always did.

Standing in the center of the kitchen, she eyed the mess of dishes in the sink that needed to be washed, debating if she should do some mindless labour to distract herself, even if it was only for a short while. A long time she stood there, the arguments about doing work racing around her head, effectively providing their own distraction. Before long, cracks started to re-appear and she was forced to abandon what she had wished to do.

Andy had spent the better part of an hour in the locker room with her head on her knees and fighting to keep herself in check. She had sworn to herself that she would never lose herself at work, the one remaining place where she could feel partially safe when surrounded by fellow officers and friends. At one point or another, she had gone back to the desk, sitting by Chris without a word. He offered her some coffee as a peace offering and a lopsided grin and joke, the things that could usually make her feel partially better. But this time it hadn't, because a bombshell had been dropped and Sam was actually back.

Thankfully, she hadn't caught sight of him again during the shift, which allowed her to leave only a bit steadier than she had been that morning. She had heard flashes of rumors that he had almost gotten into it with Luke and had been called out to a double murder before he could try to mend things again. While she remembered, that still caused a pathetic snort to pass her lips. Why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn and try to fix things? At least she had been given the luxury to not have to see him for the rest of the day.

While supremely thankful still that she had been allowed back on duty, there was still the nagging doubt that she would be sent on leave again if she kept on going the way she was going. For some reason unbeknownst to her, she was stuck in a tail spin and flailing with nothing to pull her out of the pit. And she had her suspicions that Best knew this and was growing tired. To be quite honest, she didn't blame him.

Making her way up to her bedroom, she felt herself cower deeper into her oversized black sweatshirt. Thankfully, her uniform covered all of the scars, something she had been grateful for upon her return. There was a semblance of safety behind it. Eventually, she worked up the strength to shuck it off, keeping her eyes away from the damage. Grabbing something to sleep in, she walked into the bathroom, averting her gaze from the mirror, but not before she can see the black ink embossed on her arm. A shiver ran down her spine as she moved mechanically through changing and brushing her teeth. The tremors were coming on, wracking their way through her arms and up to her chest.

By the time she made it into her bed, she was fully shaking, not a flicker of hope remaining that tonight she would actually be able to sleep. Closing her eyes tight, she burrowed under the covers in a feeble attempt to warm her from the outside. But the ice in her chest was stronger, freezing her through and through as she tried to make body drift off. Usually she was lucky enough to get a few hours of restless sleep before the worst hit. Of course, sometimes she wouldn't get a single of moment of clam the entire night.

Hugging a pillow close for comfort that was impossible for her to find nowadays, her exhausted body slowly dragged her into the clutches of sleep and finally, it was black.

* * *

><p><em>There is a crash somewhere near her head. Forcing her swollen eyes open, Andy peers emotionlessly into the nearly black eyes of her captor. At this instance, they were wild and dancing with what looks almost like merriment. The scent of dead roses, shaving cream and leather meets her nostrils, a now sickening combination that causes her empty stomach to revolt. Dry heaves wrack her as her body tries to expel the repulsive scent. But by now, there's nothing left for her to throw up. A thin line of saliva dribbles down her chin, but she is too weak to try and rub it away.<em>

"_Good morning my dear!" He calls cheerfully as he examines the heavy metal shackles that keep her chained to the wall above her head. Apparently content with their hold, he grabs her face with his grimy hands and forces himself onto her. Her feeble attempts to pull away from his aggressive mouth are useless and she is forced to feel his tongue roam around inside her own. He breaks away as abruptly as he arrived, leaving her head lolling limply against her chest, bare except for her now tattered bra, bile cramming in her throat. _

"_Today is a very special day. I have a treat for you, my wonderful girl." Clapping his hands with glee, he stalks away and her eyes struggle to find his movements. Inside, she is screaming and crying and begging, but her throat dried long ago, leaving her unable to form more than the quietest whisper._

"_What's… that… you son… of a… bitch?" Her voice croaks emptily over her bruised and damaged vocal chords. She sways a bit, her feet skimming above the ground, her shoulders long ago dislocated or worse and numb._

"_I'm giving you something so you never forget me!" He cackles joyously, lifting a small object into her view. At first, she can't make it out; her eyesight blurs. But as he saunters closer, she can see it. She recognizes it._

_A spike of adrenalin causes her body to jerk, pulling viciously away from him, the tight shackles rubbing her wrist raw. "No…" She whispers, shaking her head from side to side in denial. The movement causes a slash just above her left breast to reopen and blood begins to patter to the floor, just has it has been doing for so long now._

"_Why yes! Don't you like it?" He asks, flicking on the small handheld tattoo machine. It buzzes to life, black already glinting on the tip. Instead of waiting for her to reply, he simply continues forward. "No matter. You will love it!"_

_As he places it on her right forearm, tears begin to leak down her face and a broken scream becomes trapped inside._

* * *

><p>Andy struggled valiantly against the warm arms that had pulled her close, frantic screams scraping her throat and bouncing around the room. Her cheek were wet and sobs would interrupt the screams in odd intervals as she fought to free herself from the strong grip. Something was holding her down, pinning her to the dirty wall of the basement.<p>

"Let me go, let me go, let me go. Please, just let me go." She cried desperately as she found her face being pressed into someone's solid shoulder. Soft fabric rubbed against her skin, smelling distinctly of musk, peppermint and male. She felt her body being lifted and settled into a semi sitting position, but was still so trapped in the dream, that she couldn't feel it. All she could feel was the fire in her arm.

"Shhh… It's okay. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you." The hauntingly familiar voice sounded broken and lost to her ears as it murmured soothing words and she was rocked slowly for comfort. "I won't leave you. I promise."


	7. Chapter 7

_My apologies for not updating as often as I used to, but real life has become very busy. I'm doing my best to keep writing, and so far it seems to be working, but I just don't have as much time to update. Thank you muchly for your patients and just know that I have not forgotten about any of my fics._

_So, this chapter isn't really about the plot line continuation, but of Sam's views (for the most part). Everything technical should be explained in the next chapter (if I feel really nice). I almost feel bad for leaving constant cliff-hangers, but at the same time, I don't. ^.^ So, enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

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><p>Heart pounding in his throat, Sam raced down the hallway of the apartment building, heading straight to where the terrified screams were coming from. Skidding to a halt in front of the door, he tugged at the doorknob frantically, realization that it was locked taking a few seconds to filter through his mind. The cop part of his brain, the half that was constantly filing away information, noted that there was no one else in the hallway, not one person out of their room to see what was going on. But at the moment, he was too frantic to analyze it.<p>

Finally, it got through to him that he would have to break down the door. Rearing back, he shifted his weight before slamming his shoulder into the solid wood. A flash of pain raced down his arm, but he ignored it as the barrier broke, allowing him to enter her apartment. The surroundings were foreign to him, so it took a short moment for him to establish that he was in the living room, just across from the kitchen and that the screaming was coming from up the small set of stairs.

He hit them at a run, leaping them two at a time to get to her. To save her this time when he had failed before. He burst through the nearest doorway and his legs locked for a second as he stared at the scene before him. And he simply shattered.

Andy lay in a crumbled ball near the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself as her body shook and desperate sounds escaped her throat. There were tears streaming down her face, a pool of them already soaked into the bedspread. Her face spoke the loudest of everything. It was completely blank; an expression so wrong upon hearing the ragged sobs that were emitted from her.

Breaking away from his trance-like state, he took the four shaky steps forward and went straight on instinct, picking her up as gently as a child and wrapping himself around her. She fought and that gave him some bit of relief to know that she still tried to defend herself, punching and flailing against his hold.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go. Please, just let me go." Utter desperation sank through her tattered voice, pulling strongly at his will. How he wished he could comply, to give her some peace in the terror she was trapped in. But he couldn't let her go. Not now. So he turned her face gently into his chest, bringing her even closer and cradling her as he would a small child.

"Shhh… It's okay. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you." He cracked for a second, unable to continue as he started to rock her slowly. "I won't leave you. I promise." Even to his own ears, he sounded lost and broken.

In what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes, her ragged sobs began to slow and the trembles eased but didn't abate. During those moments, she stopped struggling against his hold, instead turning into him and clutching closer. Resting his head on her his, he let his eyes close as the roiling emotions surging within him clawed deeply before they too started to abate.

Before long, both were simply leaning on the other, breaths not quite even and muscles still jerking at odd intervals. At first, Sam had a flickering hope that everything would be all right. But then, Andy suddenly jerked away from him, tumbling out of his arms and landing on the floor with unsteady feet. She stumbled a bit, her body still not completely under her control, but when he tried to reach out and steady her, she twitched backwards and away from his outstretched hand. Her face was still dazed, but her eyes seemed to burn with fury and pain.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She hissed, voice cracking harshly in his ears. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, her body quivering as she tried to lash down on the sickness bubbling inside of her. He could see the war waging within her and it terrified him.

"Easy. I heard you screaming." Sam replied cautiously as he worked to get his own internal battle under control. Uncertainty struck Andy as the words registered.

"Wait. How?" She asked, her mind instantly latching onto the problem in front of her rather than the damage left upon her in the wake of her nightmare. It sharpened her focus and dragged her away from the memories. As she slowly returned to the real world, her arms relaxed and fell to her side. Unaware of doing it, her arm unconsciously turned forward and away from the rest of her. Sam felt every ounce of breath sucked from his body when he caught sight of the black marking marring her right forearm.

Seeing his eyes grow cold and blank, Andy quickly realized her mistake and twisted in a way that the black ink was out of view. Hoping to distract him from the looming question, the one she would never be able to answer without losing herself, she repeated, this time more concerned for him, "How?" While she knew that she should be keeping her distance from the man that she had believed would save her from the pain and hadn't, she found herself longing to comfort him. And as much as the voice inside of her mind screamed to go to him, to keep the nightmares at bay and be close to someone, she simply couldn't do it.

But he didn't stray, and it was possible to see the wheels turning in his mind, his face flickering from expressions of horror, to shock, to sadness, to rage and back. Later, when she would think back to this moment, she would remember the two of them standing in the center of her bedroom wearing pajamas and him in his leather jacket and jeans, the scent of whiskey wafting faintly from him. She would recall how he was favoring his shoulder, almost as if he had injured it and how there seemed to be tiny splinters of wood littered across his clothing. She would remember how her body was on the verge of crumbling from exhaustion and how her mind would continue to drift in and out of her private hell. And she would remember how some small part of her had begun to hope that he would actually be there and keep her sane.

Except, none of this registered then. What did was the sound of her breathing, disjointed and off kilter to her ears, the lingering feel of his arms around her and the continuous battle within not to give in to the pressure that was mounting behind her eyes. And the fear that he would ask of the mark.

"What… is… that?" Sam took his time forming his words, making sure they came out in order as he had a terrible idea of what her answer would be. A tremble shook her and fear raced like lightning within the dark depths of her terrified eyes. As he watched, she visibly seemed to fold in on herself, locking down the hatches as she tried to weather against the memories.

Just as he was about to say something, anything, to pull her back from whatever brink she was heading to, she slowly lifted her arm. She turned the rest of her body away, as if she was trying to put as much distance between her and the words embossed on her arm as she could. And he found that all words were simply gone.

There, written in crude block letters, two words stared out at him, accusing and laughing.

_Mine. Always._


	8. Chapter 8

_I must love you all. Or I am completely insane. Those two seem like the only logical options as to why I'm updating during NaNoWriMo… Seriously, I really should be working on NaNo, as I'm already behind. But alas, I'm here and you all are wonderful and here is an update. (Although, because of NaNo and my brain being completely fried, the chapter did not come out as I intended. At all. Not even after going over and over it… I especially hate the end.) _

_Anyway, a kind message from stewart14 kicked my muse into gear and this was born. I'm being honest that random reviews and PMs really make me smile and prod muse into action. _

_Lots of love to all readers and reviewers._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

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><p>All breath left his lungs in a rush, pulling sane thoughts along with it. Sam's heart grew cold even as it longed to reach out and comfort the broken woman across from him. But he found he couldn't move as the full weight of what he was seeing struck him full force. Before he could stop himself, he looked away.<p>

He had seen how, in the way she held her arm away from her body, she was pained by even showing the tattoo to him. Despair curled through the air, twisting its way through the both of them. It palpated the room, cruel fingers reaching out and skittering across skin. It brought with it the numbness associated with shock and the murky feeling of disbelief.

His fists began to clench and unclench, nails digging into his skin. Rage burned within him, pumping through the shock as he longed to feel the flesh of the man who had done this beneath his fists. To feel the destruction, snap of bone, to return even an ounce of pain forced onto her to the thing who had dealt it. His vision went black as something vicious and anguished clawed for freedom, to give into the overwhelming desire to hurt something. Or someone. Sam's body shook with suppressed energy and anger, knowing that this would be the worst possible time and place to explode.

For a long time, there was silence between them. Those two little words, etched onto the pale flesh of her forearm, had tied his tongue. There was just nothing he could say, not in this instance, not ever that could possibly help her. Then, through the murky haze of mixed emotions that had descended upon his mind, a sound suddenly registered. It was a soft, hiccupping noise that emerged from a throat already raw and was struggled with to be muted.

In his blind fury, he hadn't seen her distraught stare as she had looked to him for any form of comfort. He hadn't seen the resolved pain close over her eyes when he had glanced away, nor had he seen her draw her arm back to her body, shielding herself in her own way. It was only when the soft sound met his ears for the second time did he finally look up in time to see that she had turned further away from him and silent tears tacked their way down her cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something, anything that could offer even a little support, but the words were still simply gone. Not a single syllable formed in his mind as he struggled continuously to speak. But she beat him to it.

"I was right. You really don't care at all," she whispered softly, unable to lift her eyes and meet his. The tone of her voice, completely empty and devoid of any emotion, caused chills to dance along his spine in tortuous glee.

"No, that's not true," he protested, his tongue finally freed from its constraints. But his words still crackled harshly. "You said that you had asked for me in the hospital. No one ever told me this. I swear, if I had known, I would have been back as soon as possible. McNally, please, believe me." She refused to even look at him, instead shuffled a few feet further away.

Instinctively, he reached out to grab her shoulder as he would in any normal situation. But at the last moment, it seemed to slap him in the face, and he froze, his hand hovering uselessly a few inches from her. He dropped it after a second.

Ducking his head, he tried to meet her eyes, but they seemed to be focused on nothing. "Andy, please look at me," he murmured desperately. "Please."

Slowly, her actions as skittish as a colt, her head lifted, dark hair flowing out of the way. Sad eyes met his, distrusting and calculating, with hesitation. Sam didn't say anything, simply poured all his emotions and feelings into the look, hoping that she would see them. Bit by bit, the distrust faded, replaced by simple guardedness. As fleeting as a bird's wing, he saw a flicker of belief and hope twist their way through her features. Then it was gone, but he had seen it.

"Alright," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Rocking a little, she repeated, "alright." Sam felt a tentative smile stretch his lips. But she continued before he could add anything else. "I guess we need to talk about… stuff," she stated quietly, fingers twitching with uncertainty.

Peering around, Sam deduced that him standing in the center of her bedroom was probably causing some discomfort so he suggested gently, "why don't we go down stairs? I'll make coffee." The grateful glance she sent him was worth it. Nodding, she indicated that he should go first and he did, unwilling as he was to let her out of his sight.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he felt a grimace mar his face when he caught sight of the door, listing to its side and held on by only the bottom hinge. Just seeing it reminded him of his shoulder, which instantly started to throb again upon thought. A soft grunt escaped his teeth and he wished he had some ice. He had made it only a few feet towards the kitchen before he heard her exclamation of surprise.

"What the hell?" As he turned, resigned, he noted that Andy was staring in shock at her busted door, paused on the very last step. She had pulled on an oversized dark sweatshirt, one that looked suspiciously familiar, that hid every mark beneath the fabric.

Offering a weak grin, he followed her line of sight with a wry chuckle. "I was a little… desperate to get in. The door was locked," he added in defense.

She regarded him for a long time, anger bringing color back to her cheeks, before she sighed and shook her head. Then confusion flickered. "Wait. Why were you here anyway?"

"Coffee still in the question?" He asked, only slightly hopeful to delay what would certainly be painful memories for the both of them. They were at an impasse, where neither was ready to talk, but they both had to. They both had to bring things to the light if they could ever get passed this.

With a tilt of her head, she paused before nodding as she recognized that he needed time to brace himself, just as she did. Then she looked back at her busted door and a brief grin sprang free, before it was once again swallowed by shadows.


	9. Chapter 9

_So, we now hear Andy's story. Well, most of it._

_Thank you to all for sticking with me. And putting up with my spastic updates. I tried as best I could to keep Andy's voice from straying into the OOC area, so any feedback on how it came out would be greatly appreciated._

_Love goes to you all._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Rookie Blue._

Andy sat… well perched more like, on the edge of her couch and watched as Sam made his way deftly about her kitchen. Although she had no idea how, it seemed as though he knew exactly where everything was, pulling mugs from the cupboard and sugar from the drawer without even asking where it was. As much as it unnerved her that he knew her well enough to do so, she found it melted just a little bit of the ice around her heart.

The anxious energy that raced through her system prevented her from sitting in a more comfortable fashion; she had drawn her knees to her chest and balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. Face resting heavily against her up drawn legs, she could watch him with ease and at the same time shield herself mentally.

Moments ago, Sam had shifted her broken door so that it now blocked the outside hallway from seeing into the apartment. The simple act of shutting off the gapping entrance had been enough to calm their minds. As she thought about it, Andy began to ponder when she would get the chance to fix it and where she could stay until it was done, as she wasn't nearly whole enough to deal with a home perfectly accessible by perfect strangers. Perhaps she could call her dad to set it back in place.

"Here you go," Sam's gentle voice broke through her thoughts and she blinked to see her favorite mug outstretched near her nose. Smiling distractedly, she took the cup from his grasp and desperately tried to ignore the shock she received when their hands brushed.

"Thank you," she whispered, retreating into the warmth between her hands and clawing a desperate barrier together as unwelcome memories intruded.

Watching him silently, she noted the way he favored his shoulder. Frowning, she tilted her head and ignored his questions, instead focusing more intently at the subject of her scrutiny.

"Take off your jacket," she spoke softly and felt a burble of laughter at his look of shock. He complied, shrugging off the article of clothing with a small grunt of discomfort. Clad in only a black short sleeved shirt, it was easy to see the brilliant beginnings of a massive bruise decorating his upper arm. A whistle escaped his teeth as he peered down at it, unaware of her flinch at the sight of the damage.

Standing swiftly, she padded to her freezer and fetched a bag of frozen peas. Wrapping them in a cloth, she tossed them to him and once again took up her perch on the couch. For a second, he stared at the cold lump he held before pressing it to the livid discoloration. A hiss escaped as the cool took effect.

"Leave it there for twenty minutes or so. It should start to feel better by then," she said.

A tense silence fell around them.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the words burst free. Like a broken dam, there was no halting them, even as hit like bullets.

"A week after you vanished, I was riding with Chris. We were on the north side of the city, heading to pick up a witness for Luke. When we got there, the door was shattered. It looked as though someone had taken an axe to it.

When we went in, we had already called for backup and were informed they wouldn't be there for about five minutes. Even so, we went in. Why did we go in?" Sensing the question wasn't directed at him, Sam continued to sit in silence, his coffee long abandoned on the table in front of him.

"We found the woman in the kitchen. Her throat had been torn up. Just as Chris was about to call it in, we were jumped. The… _he… _went for Chris first, hitting upside the head with a crowbar. He went down and I tried to get my weapon up. But there was suddenly this white powder everywhere and I couldn't breathe. And then it was black.

When I woke up, I was in chains."

At this point, her voice cracked and Sam reached out to comfort her, but she skittered backwards until she was nearly seated on the back of the couch. There was a warning in her eyes as well as a madness that vanished from her tone seconds later. When she spoke again, her words became clipped and formal, as if she was simply giving a report.

"It was in some sort of basement. I didn't really see much of it; all I know was that it was dark and wet and smelled like the ocean. _He _had taken my uniform and disposed of it somewhere, so all I had on was my underwear."

She ignored Sam's pained groan.

"I don't remember much of the first day; whatever he had dosed me with was strong. Everything was hazy. But I do remember how he laughed when he first started to cut. He told me that it was what I was meant for, a pretty girl like me. Asked me if I was having fun. I managed to spit on him. After that, he didn't say anything, just kept slicing. Everywhere and anywhere. Over and over and over.

When I passed out from blood loss, I guessed he realized that he almost killed me. When I woke up again, he had sewn up a few of the bigger cuts with what I could only assume to be twine. After that, he was careful. Very careful to keep me conscious for as long as possible. He favored needles.

He liked to use them to draw patterns or whatever struck his fancy for the time. The first time he used them, I fought so much, I managed to dislocate both of my shoulders. I passed out from the pain and he didn't bother resetting them. Since I wasn't awake to scream, he just left me there. I think he only had fun when I was screaming.

By then, I was tired. So tired and beaten and broken, that I started praying he would go too far again. That he would cut just a little too deep and lose his plaything. Because that's all I was. His play toy. His own personal doll he could destroy however he wanted."

Sam felt physically ill as she spoke without infliction. He would give anything and everything for her to stop, to tell him this was all a lie or even that she didn't remember. He prayed and cursed and begged to whatever holy entity above him for this madness to stop. For it to all be over and that she wouldn't have to suffer anymore. He wished he could open his mouth and tell her it was alright, to ask her to stop, to not hear this. But he was frozen.

"But that wasn't the worst. He did… other things," at this, Andy's vision unfocused and she was back in that cold room,_ his _icy breath on her cheek.

Those were the words that broke his control and Sam wished for nothing more than to whisk her far away from the pain. He saw her fall back into memories, watched as they took hold and felt warm liquid drip down his face. He was out of his seat before he realized what was happening. Gently, ever so carefully, he picked her up, ignored the screaming blackness inside, and pulled her into his lap once again.

There were no tears in her eyes; nothing but emptiness as her control shattered and she slipped away. So, pressing his face to her hair, he began to whisper. And as he did so, things fell together in Andy's mind.

"It's okay Andy. You aren't there anymore. You are here. You are alive and here and I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. Just come back to me now. You are so strong and I am so proud of you. That's right, just come back, you are safe," his heart threatened to burst as she slowly wrapped her arms tight around him in response. What made it that much worse was how she made sure to avoid his injured shoulder. Even now, facing her worst nightmares, she was trying to protect him.

"You just stay with me, you hear? God, I love you so much."

As the words left his mouth, only than did he realize what had been said.


	10. Chapter 10

_Not much to say other than we are finally getting into the chapters that I've been waiting for for a long while. Because, despite the angsty-ness and all that, the next chapter will have a little bit of fluff. Just because. _

_And thankyou's to everyone reading, as always._

_Other than that, enjoy._

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><p>The devilish voice of her tormentor looped around and around in her mind, her will to hold it off simply gone. Her vision slid from that of her living room back into the dirty basement and the rest of her slowly followed.<p>

It was different from the dreams, because in those, at least she was partially aware that it would end and she would wake up at some point. Not like this.

This has happened, in a magnitude this strong, only twice before.

The first was during the first session with the shrink. The kindly woman had meant well, that much Andy knew, but she had asked so many questions that had hit right where she was still trying to recover. They weren't about what had been done to her, or what she had endured psychologically.

No, they had been primarily about her support system and friends.

Specifically, her undercover training officer.

The second time was when she had first gone back to her apartment.

Traci had gathered the other rookies and a few other members of the precinct as a sort of mini-welcome home. It had been the last thing Andy had wanted to participate in, but she put a smile on her face and forced herself through the night for her best friend.

She wanted the worry and unexpected visits like this to stop.

Everything had been fine until Luke (jackass) has hugged her a little too brusquely.

Neither of these moments were particularly helpful in the present, nor relevant. What was how she had only spun out of the panic the next morning, after passing out and dreaming.

And how the onset had been much faster those two previous times. She had never managed to finish her story before.

Only, this time was different.

Something was keeping her grounded.

So she leapt towards that little light with desperation.

To find herself confronted with the words, "I love you so much."

They froze at the same time.

Ever so slowly, Andy tilted her head to peer up at him, barely aware she had to crane her neck hugely from where she was curled on his lap.

He was looking straight ahead, eyes just as stunned as she felt.

She could almost see the thoughts running through his mind, the _Oh shit, oh shit, what did I do?_ It caused another little piece inside to break away from the shield around her heart. And with that, the crack spread enough for her to see with clarity she had lacked for months.

He really had never left her. Abandoned her.

"Sam-" She starts but is cut off before she can continue.

"I'm sorry; I didn't-"

This time, it's she who stopped him. Gently, she moved one arm away from her chest and tangled her fingers in his shirt, smiling a little at how the sensation felt. She ignored the small flash of hurt as his arms loosened their hold, instead taking the opportunity to twist herself into a more comfortable position, which ended up being her sitting crosswise on his lap, legs dangling off his and side pressed to his chest.

And ignored the half of her that was glad at the release of constraints.

"Look at me Sam. Please."

Hesitantly, he lifted his gaze to hers, filled with sorrow and fear.

"Okay."

He blinked slowly. "What?" he asked in confusion.

"Okay," Andy repeated. She took a breath. "I can't say the same back, not yet. I'm broken and I know it. But I don't think I'll run anymore. So, okay."

His expression of joy was all she needed.

Pressing her free hand to her cheek, she leaned forward and rested her forehead to his. Strong arms came around her and pulled her closer. At first, the contact was soothing, comforting almost. And she wanted to maintain it. But she said it herself. She was broken; and it would take a long time for things to ever be right.

So, after ten seconds, her body began to betray her and started to shake. His arms fell away as if burned and she slipped off his lap and onto her feet. Backing away a few paces, she pressed a hand to her mouth and tried not to notice his look of anguish.

"Sorry," she murmured through her fingers. He was on his feet, keeping a careful distance, watching her with dark eyes.

"Don't ever apologies for what happens or happened. It was not your fault and will never be your fault," he practically growled. She took comfort in his anger and nodded, wiping damp hands on her sweats.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Anytime." A corner of Sam's lip twitched in the beginnings of a smile. It was interrupted by a massive yawn.

The sight alone was enough to illicit a small giggle from Andy. "I think it's time for some sleep."

"You aren't staying here," Sam responded instantly with a pointed look to her door.

"And whose fault is that?" Andy shot back with a smirk.

His contrite look evaporated most of her amusement. "Where should I stay then?" Andy asked, stuffing her hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt she wore.

"I'll call someone about that tomorrow, I promise. But until then, maybe, you could stay with me. I have a spare room if you want," he paused when he saw a strange look pass across her face. "But if you don't want to…"

"Okay," she spoke before he could continue. It was time to jump in, not dip feet in the shallows.

"Okay?"

"That would work. I'll just go grab a few things." With that, she turned and headed up the stairs. Within moments, she was back down to the main floor with her duffle slung over her shoulder, uniform peeking out from the top.

Deciding it was best not to say more, Sam nodded and grabbed his jacket from the chair, following her out the open maw of the door.

* * *

><p>The drive to Sam's apartment was filled with silence; not quite tense but not completely at ease either. It was as if they had both found their footing at her place, but now that they were in his truck, the ground had shifted a little.<p>

With her head resting against the window, Andy watched as the city blinked by, taking peace in the lights and sounds. Sam's comforting scent filled the cab and swirled around her, allowing some raw edges from the night to smooth and she fiddled absently on a loose thread of the sweatshirt.

She pretended not to notice the sidewise looks Sam threw at her every once and awhile.

He spoke for the first time only two blocks from his home.

"That sweatshirt… it looks familiar…?"

"Is that a question or a statement Sam?" Andy asked quietly in response.

"Question."

Exhaling softly, she continued to stare out the window even as he pulled into his drive and parked. "It's yours," she admitted. "I stole it from your locker two days after you left. I was going to burn it or something, but then… things happened and it was forgotten in my closet. Until I came home and couldn't even try to sleep; then I found it."

She turned her head to regard him. "Even though I hated you at the time, it was the only thing I had that could help with the pain and fear."

There was a beat of silence.

"Andy…"

"Sam, please don't."

"Alright." Shutting off the engine, he simply got out of the truck and walked around to her side, taking the duffle from her shoulder and slinging it over his. Their eyes met for a moment, before she turned and headed for his door.


	11. Chapter 11

_Well, dear readers, this is it. The final chapter._

_I so truly hope you've enjoyed this story so far; I certainly have._

_While I hate to say goodbye to Lingering Shadows, it's time to put it to bed._

_So, thank you all for reading. It's been a blast._

* * *

><p>She had been under the impression that sleeping in a bed not her own, a bed and room and apartment that held no bad memories or triggers, would allow her to get a modicum amount of decent sleep.<p>

Of course, she had been wrong.

Bolting upright to the hazy darkness and the purple tinges of dawn hinted on the horizon, Andy pressed a hand to her heavy chest and bit down on her lip to keep a cry from escaping. The mass of sheets and comforter that had formed a nest about her were tossed askew and damp from sweat. One of the sheets had twisted its way around her legs like a snake and she struggled with it for a long moment before she was free.

The room that wasn't hers smelled like air freshener, sweat and her residual fear. There was no trace of Sam, even though she was in his home. It was disconcerting.

Slipping from the tangled mess of a bed and onto shaky legs, Andy made her way to the window that looked out at a snippet of the city. The sky beyond the soaring buildings was an inky purple and dusted with the faintest amount of stars, already fading into the pre-dawn glow. She watched it gradually lighten as the sun approached, but true daybreak was still a handful of minutes away.

Turning her back on the outside world, she padded across the room and slipped from the guest bedroom. The cool apartment air chilled her sweat coated skin, goose bumps rising on bare arms. The sweater she had pilfered from Sam all that time ago was currently residing on the top of her duffle back; she found his comforter had warmed her just as well. Until she had woken, that is.

Making her way through Sam's apartment more by memory than sight, Andy paused in the kitchen to gulp down a glass of water to settle her nerves. Already, the nightmare was fading, which was unusual in itself.

Usually, they haunted her well into the day.

Perhaps being at Sam's had really helped, even if she hadn't spent the night with him.

That was her own fault.

It had been her choice to step back and away, the instincts she had developed over the months screaming at her that she needed some distance, to really make sure she knew what she was doing. So, she had said goodnight to Sam with a quiet thank you and a touch of her lips to her cheek before hiding herself in his guest bedroom. She hadn't seen the lost and broken look on his face when she walked away, nor the steady determination filling him as he went the opposite way to his bedroom.

She didn't know he was dead set on doing whatever it took to break down her walls and try to help her be whole.

Standing alone and barefoot in Sam's kitchen, it struck Andy than just what she had gained; something she thought lost but had just been … misplaced.

The glass clinked softly as it was set in the sink.

For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about the broken door hanging on resolutely by one flimsy looking hinge. But that was just it. That hinge wasn't as fragile as it looked, despite the enormous pressure it held up and the bent metal.

Still pondering her apartment door, Andy's feet unconsciously led the way down the hall to Sam's bedroom. They still remembered the way from their frantic flight down this same hall the night of the blackout. She could recall vividly her desperate need to be close to him that night and his willingness to accept how little she would give him. Only then, she had been more focused on trying to get Sam's shirt off than how she could put a one-hinged door back together.

Halting, the top of the sun now shinning thin rays over the city, Andy stared at the sturdy door in front of her. Her fingers itched in her pajama pockets. She studiously ignored the muscles twitching under the black ink.

With a surge of pure impulse, Andy pushed her way inside and did her best to close the door silently. She wasn't quite successful and saw Sam shift beneath the covers.

He sat as she remained still, rumpled hair making him look years younger and completely unguarded, and met her gaze.

Awareness hit him first and she saw panic cross his face. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Nothing," she whispered. "I just…" trailing off, Andy simply acted instead of explaining. Just as a child would do, she climbed onto his bed and on her side with a foot of space between them. Seeing the confused look in his eyes as he peered down at her in the growing light, she sighed, closed her eyes and twined the fingers of her left hand with his.

She missed the expression of utter bafflement and adoration slip across his face but felt the bed shift as he settled next to her. They both knew an alarm would sound eventually and they would both have to get up and face their respective problems and days, but for now, it was forgotten.

Sam stayed awake until day finally arrived, never once breaking contact as he guarded her from things neither of them could fight. Andy rested soundly, on the brink of sleep but never actually reaching it, and reveled in his presence and the balm it provided.

And as they lay side by side, tethered, both of them began the long journey of finding the peace both of them sought.

Together.


	12. Epilogue

**_Epilogue_**

The day broke with streaming banners of sunshine and the chirp of spring birds.

A change in seasons had come over Toronto, leaving behind the bitter and windy fall and the cold and wet winter behind. Trees had started to spread their branches, buds of bright green already in prominent display and the perfume of blossoms had begun to creep its way from the parks and window ledges.

Warmth was seeping back into the bones of the city.

A young woman was seated on the front stairs of her boyfriend's porch, warm coffee mug cupped between her fingers and a content smile on her face. The door was opened wide behind her, and she could hear the faint sounds of him banging around in the kitchen.

When she heard the colourful exclamation, she grinned and guessed he had managed to smack his knee against the new counters that had been recently finished. Again.

"That's the sixth time in three days Sam," she called softly.

"I'm very much aware, thank you," he shot back sharply, but she could detect the faint amusement under his words. She just shook her head and sipped at her coffee.

Eventually, he joined her on the porch, settling himself rather loudly next to her and somehow manages not to spill a drop of coffee on his hands despite the jostling. She ignored his remaining mumbled curses about the change in his kitchen, knowing full well he loves them as much as she does. Well, perhaps not quite so much, given the mottling of bruises she knows decorates his shins.

"So," Sam started softly. She knows what's coming, but it no longer brings an itch between her shoulder blades. Progress. "Last appointment today."

A quick look is slanted sidewise; he watches her with something akin to wariness and the adoring gleam of love.

"So it is," Andy responded, absently rolling up her shirt sleeves.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, bumping a shoulder to hers.

She takes a moment to think. "Good, I think. Not bad though."

When he beamed at her, dimples in full display, she knew it was the right thing to say.

It has taken them four appointments already, but the black ink on her arm is all but gone and she has come to relish the feel of the laser taking away the brand.

And today was the day it would finally be gone and she (they) could put the horrors of the past in the past, where they belong.

"I love you," she whispered and leaned over, kissing him gently.

He tasted of coffee and the remainders of the cinnamon roll they had shared for breakfast. And he was hers.

When she pulled back, his eyes glittered.

"I love you too."

Her heart tripped once, slowly, the way it always did when he told her and she rested her head against his shoulder, hiding the blush in his sleeve.

He just laughed once, a small chuckle, before wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

They watched the sun crest over the trees in content silence.

Spring had come, and so had change.

* * *

><p><em>Time to say goodbye.<em>

_Short, sweet and the end._

_'Night lovelies._


End file.
